


Iron Lady

by RebelliousWaffle



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Attempt at wholesomeness eventually, Eventual Romance, F/F, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelliousWaffle/pseuds/RebelliousWaffle
Summary: The Tempest-Born, the Lightning Rod, the Iron Lady of the Storm. Twice-resurrected. Once married. This is the story of her, her wife, and her daughter.
Relationships: Ema Talahashi/Kaara Torii





	1. Reborn As A Broken Race

A small drone, shaped like a multi-pointed star, floats across a battlefield. It looks over different corpses, before settling on one that's laid up against a cargo container. Seemingly crouching down, as if a drone as tiny as your closed fist can do so, it suddenly bursts outwards. The edges of the star fly off the body before abruptly stopping, floating like geometrically-precise snowflakes in midair. The being it hovers over gasps suddenly and rockets to a sitting position.  
And just like that, a Guardian is born.  
The newborn Guardian continued to gasp for air for a few seconds before regaining their composure, looking at their hands. "What happened?"  
"I don't know," the drone responded. "But it killed you."  
"So then how am I talking to you?" the Guardian challenged.  
"Well, I resurrected you." The drone's shell spun a few times.  
"And you are…?"  
"Pepperidge!" the little drone said brightly. "A Ghost. There are more Ghosts, too, but none of them are yours. Only me. I'm your Ghost."  
A roar shook the crates, making the new Guardian wince fearfully. "What is that?"  
"Fallen, I think. Alien scavengers. Not nice. Probably will kill both you and me!" Pepperidge chirped, entirely too merry. "We should probably get you a weapon."  
"Yes, probably," the new Guardian groused. "Where's my rifle?"  
"Oh, someone stole it," Pepperidge answered, still unbearably cheery. "I think it was a Warlord."  
"Warlord?"  
"No questions right now! Fallen!"  
Right as Pepperidge said those words, a Wire Rifle shot hissed past the newborn Guardian's head. They dove for cover behind a burnt-out car, cursing in Russian. Two smaller, two-armed aliens began to charge her position, followed closely by one wearing more significant armor with an additional two arms. She waited for them to close the distance before jumping out and punching one in the gut, making it double over, and grabbing one of it's two arms. There was a sickly tearing sound before the arm came free, losing the grip on the dagger it was holding. The Guardian scooped it up off the ground and turned, hurling it at the other unarmored alien, and swept her leg under the dismembered one, knocking it to the floor, before stomping on their throat. There was a slight cracking sound as etherbone gave way.  
The final alien looked at the sight of one wild-eyed lady, doused in ether, and began to back up before a shock pistol round hit it in the forehead. It fell backwards, curling up on itself like an arachnid, dead.  
Pepperidge bobbed happily. As the Guardian drew in a massive, shuddering breath, they chirped, "Well, that was fun!"  
"Mm-hmm," the Guardian muttered, slowly losing the adrenaline high that had come over her. "Fun."  
"We should probably get moving."  
"Yeah. Let us."  
The Guardian stooped to pick up the wire rifle that the armored alien had dropped as Pepperidge hovered around their shoulders.  
"I should give you a name," Pepperidge murmured. "What should your name be?"  
The Guardian ignored the question, hefting the wire rifle as she looked for a way out of the area. A small slit in the wall around the area was the first thing she saw, so she moved towards it.  
An armored Fallen leaned around the corner. The Guardian fired their wire rifle, hitting the alien square in the head. They hissed and fell as the Guardian hurried to the slit in the wall, checking around the corner quickly and finding a much larger Fallen with a huge fur behind their head. Acting on pure instinct, she threw a grenade.  
She didn't have a grenade, but she still threw one.  
A cold purple sphere of… pure nothingness appeared in her palm, and she threw it like a knife at the Fallen. It impacted directly on their chest and sent them flying backwards into one of their two-armed compatriots. Seizing the momentum of the fight, the Guardian hit it with two wire rifle shots before switching targets.  
Her wire rifle ran out of ammo.  
So she did the next best thing and flung herself at the Fallen as if she was Wei Ning, pummeling them to death with her fists and a smidgin of Light.  
After the corridor was cleared, the Guardian continued to fight her way across the Wall. Long corridors provided sniper fights. A wire rifle shot burned into her's gut, and she cried out in pain. Some sixth sense, however, made her funnel the Light into a rift around her, accelerating the healing of the wound by what felt like ten thousand percent.  
She re-peeked the corner and charged her wire rifle, removing the head of an armored alien at the end of the corridor.  
After that, she asked what had happened.  
"I don't know," Pepperidge responded. "There are a lot of things I don't know."  
Shorter corridors, mostly ninety-degree turns, resulted in fistfights once more. Invisible Fallen made their presence known in these tiny areas, jumping with knives at her. The first one managed to kill her.  
The dagger plunged into her gut, but not before she was able to slit the four-armed bastard's throat. Gasping for breath, she collapsed.  
And promptly sat back up.  
"I thought I died," she gasped.  
"You did!" Pepperidge would've been grinning if she had a mouse. "I just brought you back again. It happens, you know?"  
The next room she faced was far more open, with a fur-covered Fallen on the opposite end and two not-quite-invisible Fallen attacking from the shadows.  
"Pepperidge?" she asked.  
"Yep! What do you need?"  
"Can you play music?"  
"Name it!"  
"Something… that fits uncertain times."  
Pepperidge said nothing for a few seconds, before selecting a song.  
"Once you were all sea-folk and you sailed upon the sea," Pepperidge began to sing, just as the not-invisible Fallen attacked.  
She stole the knife from one of the not-invisible-anymore Fallen and stabbed it, then stabbed the other one, then charged the fur-Fallen, shoving the shock-sword directly into their throat. Ether hissed from the wound as they clumsily counter-attacked. The Guardian wavered backwards, so the attack just missed, and swung the sword upwards, slicing off the attacking limb, before stabbing the fur-Fallen again.  
The little drone- no, Ghost- was still debating what name to use as their Guardian wandered across the plains of the Eastern Flood Zone. The lyrics of the song that Pepperidge had played earlier remained in the Guardian's mind as she observed the wide open field. "Crossed the roaring ocean with the Devils at your heels," she muttered.  
"Oh, the time has come again now, I'll tell you how this will unfold," Pepperidge added. "I wanna see the western ocean painted black and gold!"  
"Welcome to the seaside," the Guardian continued, watching a patrol of red-colored Fallen walk along the grass. "It's been occupied."  
Pepperidge finished, looking over towards the future Lord's Watch. "Burrow to the bottom, and behold! The motherlode, of black and gold."  
The plains taught her rough lessons. Lesson one; never take the obvious path. She watched two Fallen get ambushed by bandits on the obvious path, and vice versa. Their blood and ether tainted the mud and left the area smelling foul.  
Lesson two; never rest in the open. She learned this lesson by stealing a rifle and ammunition from a lone bandit. Creeping through the tall grass, keeping noise to an absolute minimum, she approached them crouching with nothing but a stolen shock dagger. They were sleeping on a rough bedroll, with two storage pockets on the side of their sleeping bag for storage. Very, very slowly, she took the contents of the storage pockets, mostly food and ammunition, took the rifle, and then got cocky.  
Nudging the bandit with one toe, she expected them to wake up. No response. So, she lifted their chin slightly, wedged her boot in between, and stomped downwards, crushing their neck. The bandit was then dragged from the sleeping bag, which was stolen, along with the bedroll.  
Lesson three; just because something was cruel, didn't mean that it would automatically fix itself.  
Day after day, she came upon dead refugees, stolen supplies, looted buildings.  
How many more would die if no one stopped these thieves? An infinite, incalculable number. Something had to be done. But when no target presented themselves...  
She slept in lofts of empty houses, with a rifle by her side. She held enough of a memory of her rifle to know that the one she used wasn't it. This one fired fully automatic, and wasn't very accurate. Her rifle was a semi-automatic, for one, and secondly, it was very, very accurate.  
On her fourth day of this new life she'd been gifted, Pepperidge spoke up with something important to say.  
"I've got it!"  
"Got what?" the Guardian asked.  
"Your name! You are now Mortica Richards!"  
"That's not my name." Mortica sounded confused. Pepperidge couldn't fathom a reason why she'd be confused, however.  
"Well, until you find something better, that's your name," she concluded.  
Mortica shook her head. A detail about her rifle came to the forefront of her mind. An engraving, etched into the wooden stock.  
"No. My name is Talahashi. Ema Talahashi."  
"That's a nice name."


	2. Chapter 2

There was a little stream next to the path that Ema and Pepperidge were traveling. Ema ran one hand under the flowing water  
"That's one of the steps in treating a cut!" Pepperidge bubbled. "Well, that would be, if I didn't heal you."  
"There are people that might need it," Ema responded. "I'm not the only person."  
"There aren't many people out here," Pepperidge countered. "But it might be useful! So, wound care: first, clean the wound, then bandage it! It's no good if you don't have a clean wound."  
Ema nodded, taking a drink from the stream before continuing along the path.  
"Pepperidge, are there any settlements nearby?"  
"I don't know! There's no map that I can access."  
"Is there anywhere we could find a map? Something like an uplink station?"  
"Scanning."  
The only sounds were the whirr of the shell and the birds in the trees. Ema took solace in the fact that she could hear the birds. It meant she was safe. No birds meant targets in the brush.  
"There's a station about five kilometers from here, west by northwest. Should take maybe an hour to reach it. We'd best start walking!"  
Ema nodded, staying silent to not disrupt the peace of the forest.  
The journey was uneventful. The path was overgrown, but clear enough, and Ema made good time to the uplink station. A small antenna spiked into the air from a solid black box, and a hardy screen and keyboard sat in front of the box.  
"Alright, here we go!" Pepperidge said. "Booting it up… huh. It's already online. And running an uplink."  
"Is that a problem?" Ema asked, suddenly anxious.  
"Quite the opposite! Beginning first stage verification… Ghost user… bypassing firewall… or not. That is a problem. I need a password to get into the terminal. All it says is, 'the founder of our order,' followed by a… wolf motif? I think that's it. Yep! That's a wolf motif."  
"So… no map?" Ema groaned.  
"Nope! No map. Unless you know 'the founder of our order.'"  
Ema cursed. "Блять. I don't know."  
"Well, I suppose we continue along this path!"  
"I guess." Ema took a deep breath, then released it, before she noticed something was off.  
"Do you hear that?"  
"Hear what?"  
"Exactly. Something isn't right." Ema took hold of her pistol, and began carefully placing her feet as she moved along the path. The birds didn't return for the rest of the journey.  
After an hour, she smelled woodsmoke on the breeze and followed the scent.  
It led to a small village of maybe fifty people. The buildings looked relatively substantial, well-maintained and solidly made. Wooden roofs, heavily sloped, kept snow off in the winter (or so Pepperidge said). Solid stone foundations kept the logs that made the frame of the house upright.  
As Ema approached, curious faces peeked out of the buildings. One or two people stood in the doorframes as two people strode out to meet her.  
"Welcome to Cabine," the oldest one said. "Who are you?"  
The speaker looked older than one hundred years of age; a third of a long Human lifespan, but depressing once they revealed they were no older than fifty-three. Vladivostok was unforgiving.  
"I'm… Ema."  
"Ema who?"  
"Ema Talahashi. You probably don't know me."  
"You'd be right," someone else said. They held the look of a warrior. A pistol was riding their hip, and they wore solid plasteel armor and a substantial helmet. Both showed battle damage. In an aside to the mayor, they asked, "Why should we trust her?"  
Pepperidge materialized just next to Ema's shoulder. "You don't, and you shouldn't. But we can defend your town! We just need, you know, shelter. And some bullets. But I can make the bullets, if you need."  
"So you're a Risen," the warrior said.  
"Apparently," Ema responded. "If… it makes you feel better, I didn't chose this life."  
"None of us did. I didn't chose to become a refugee, or the watchman for Cabine." The warrior motioned to the elder. "Magn never chose to become the mayor. We're all just making the best of a horrible situation. So piss off with your guilt trip."  
Ema responded, "I just need somewhere to collect myself. This seemed like a good bet."  
"Your place ain't here," the warrior challenged. Magn put a hand on his shoulder.  
"You would do well to remember who leads Cabine, Thas," she said. "Miss Talahashi. We have many sick and wounded. Do you have the skills to treat them?"  
"I…" Ema began. Pepperidge interrupted.  
"She does! I promise."  
"Then do so, and you will become a citizen of Cabine. Come. I will show you to his room."  
The son of the mayor's family had fallen in a contest against some of his friends and broken his leg. Additionally, he had fallen ill due to a cut he had obtained that no one had noticed.  
Ema was shown to his room and looked him over. He was unconscious, with low blood pressure and little respiratory activity, as well as a fever, and upon further inspection Pepperidge found that he had what she described as tachycardia- a fancy term for fast heart rate.  
"Pepperidge, I'm no doctor."  
"Ema, you remember how you healed yourself in that rift?" Pepperidge asked, as the door closed. "It doesn't just work for you."  
She took a deep breath and placed two hands to the broken leg, humming a little. If asked, she couldn't explain how she did it.  
Ema exited the room maybe five minutes later to see Thas staring her down, arms crossed.  
"Look. Magn may trust you. But I don't. So if you so much as buggered a single cell in her kid, I will kill you."  
Pepperidge's shell buzzed angrily. "That won't do much, you overzealous crusader."  
"It'll hurt, dead thing walking," Thas retorted. He said thing as if he was saying a slur.  
That was when the son exited the room, bouncing with energy and forcing everyone present to crack a smile.  
The day passed in a flurry of medical checkups. Ema went from house to house, learning on the job.  
"Clean out the wound first," Ema said, washing a child's arm underneath a tap. The kid, who was called Minda, nodded. They had a small but angry gash on their palm. Their mother, Wavie, stood just behind them.  
"Why?" Minda asked.  
"That way, you won't become sick," Ema explained. She removed a roll of gauze from a medical kit, wrapping it around the cut. "Change this tomorrow, and wash the cut again. Keep doing this until it scars over. It will look pink and nasty, but that's good."  
"Will it always be a scar?"  
"It's possible."  
"I want it to always be a scar. They look cool."  
Ema had to smile at the childish wonder of Minda as she packed up the medkit and went to exit the room, shaking the hand of Wavie as she left.  
"Thank you for this," the mother said. Ema nodded.  
"She was reborn for this! To help people!" Pepperidge said. Her voice held a smile.  
As Ema found a family, characters came and went in Cabine. A Wu Ming, someone called Orin. But there were two that stuck with Ema. They both came at the same time, but only one she became friends with.  
The first, she met in the bar of the town. The visitor wore relatively ornate armor, with emblems featuring trees and a wolf sigil. Their stormcoat was mostly grey-silver armor.  
Ema sat down across from them. They removed their helmet, revealing short black hair and two unwavering green eyes that stared down the Miracle Worker of Cabine for about twenty seconds as the two ladies sized each other up, taking note of demeanors and determining possible threats.  
Then, the newcomer started laughing. Ema raised an eyebrow, suddenly far more suspicious. "What are you on about?"  
"I'm sorry," the newcomer gasped out. "You just look so serious!"  
They cleared their throat and introduced themselves as Lady Skorri. "I hear you're the healer of this little town."  
"Maybe I am," Ema responded, intentionally vague.  
"I already saw your medkit, so you can drop the act. I'm not here to harm the town."  
"I'm reserving judgement. Why are you here?"  
"Lord Radegast- he's our founder- he sent me to find the warlord of this town and bring you into the fold. Only, there is no warlord of this town, and you're the only Guardian here." She paused. "And so close to Citan, as well."  
Ema's question about Citan was forgotten when the bartender arrived with two glasses of water, seemingly knowing what the two desired before they had a chance to ask. Ema nodded her thanks. Skorri passed a small token of glimmer to Ceros.  
"I'm asking you to join us. See how powerful your Light can become," Skorri explained.  
"And I would," Ema responded. "But there are people here that rely on me for protection. I can't just abandon them."  
"And you won't. The only real difference that the Iron Lords would make for you is one, you get call yourself Lady Ema, and two, if you send out a call for help, someone- actually, many someones- will answer it."  
"How many of you are there?"  
Lady Skorri smiled. Maybe the smile was a little bit grim, but it was more honest than most. "You'd be surprised."  
Ema raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "If your… posturing about the Iron Lords is true, then I accept."  
"I'll run the news to Radegast tomorrow, then." Skorri took a long sip of her drink, swishing the light blue liquid a bit before she does so. "Do you have anywhere I can stay in the meantime?"  
"You can stay with me. Cabine has no inn." The 'where I can keep an eye on you' seemed lost on Skorri. Or perhaps she just didn't care.  
"Oh, that's gonna be bad for you. I'll keep you up all night just because I'm thinking out loud. Happens all the time."  
Ema laughed a little bit. "Right. You're the one that will keep me awake."  
"Oh, no, I promise you," Skorri chuckled in response. "See, I've been having this idea for a song for ages, but the lyrics are giving me trouble. It's giving me a right headache."  
The discussion continued as the two headed back to Ema's house. One or two citizens raised eyebrows at the two, clearly mistaking them for a couple.  
"I'm no trainer. I can give you some pointers, but I'm not a trainer," Skorri was saying as they reached the front door. "Best I can say is, Solar is loud, Void is quiet, and Arc is the required middle ground. Solar is… Overwhelming presence. Void is the lack of presence. And Arc is… Arc is like the person who rarely speaks. They don't speak often, but when they do, people listen well. Or, even better, Arc is the person that speaks evenly. They could shout or whisper, but they choose not to."  
"Nothing speaks to me like Arc, but I can't tell how to harness it," Ema responded.  
"Adversity is the greatest mentor. But now that we're here, do you have any food? I'm absolutely starved," Skorri asked as Ema opened the doorway, revealing a comfortably tiny interior that blurred the line between cramped and efficient. Empty shelves sat on the walls. A single bookcase was nearly devoid of any books, with only three books on it and one single engram, glowing blue. To the left, there was a open door that led to the bedroom. To the right was a small dining table, and an understocked kitchen. A cooking fire lay in the middle of the room, with a large metal circle surrounding it. Just past the iron donut was a mound of pillows that Skorri assumed functioned as couches. (She did the same thing. It wasn't unwelcome).  
"I can make some venison," Ema offered, summoning a puff of Solar Light to start the cook fire. Skorri nodded.  
"That would be great," she said, dropping onto one of the piles of cushions and pulling out a sheaf of papers and a pencil as Ema pulled a slab of meat out of one cupboard. It was noticeably cold to the touch.  
For a few minutes, the only sounds in the house were the crackling of the fire and the scribbling of the pencil on paper.  
"How did all of the Iron Lords manage to get such irritating names?" Skorri eventually groaned. Ema raised an eyebrow.  
"Go on."  
"Felwinter. Gheleon. Saladin. Silimar, even. None of them make my job easy. It's irritating. Perun, Timur, Dryden- they make it easy. But not Felwinter, or dragon-killing Saladin, or even bloody Radegast." Skorri sat back and let out a long sigh. "I just do not get it."  
Ema stayed silent.  
"You know what, I'm going to work on Efrideet's tale."  
"Efrideet's tale?"  
"On how she was inducted into the Iron Lords. Saladin was patrolling his area, and Efrideet came to talk to him. By chance, the Devils decided to attack at that moment. They crush two attacks, before the Fallen bring in a tank waaaaay too far away for them to get to in time. They're out of ammo, so Saladin suggests that they start running. And Efrideet asks if she can throw him.  
"Naturally, Titan pride and all that, he says no. But there's no time, so Efrideet asks if he has a better- or quicker- idea, and he doesn't. So she picks him up and throws him off the cliff. Clean off the cliff, straight down into the Walker, which doesn't take over one million volts very well and gets a hole blasted clean through it before it blows up, killing Saladin.  
"Few minutes later, Efrideet rezzes Saladin, and he asks if she's going to join. She asks, 'Do I get to throw you again?'"   
Skorri shifted slightly, as if to mimic Saladin speaking to Efrideet. "'No.'"  
"'Then no.'"  
"And Saladin, he grits his teeth and goes, 'Well, we might run out of ammo again eventually.' And then she follows him to Dwindler's Ridge, where she's inducted."  
Ema nodded. "What about just 'A Tale From the Dark Age' as the title?"  
"Who said anything about a dark age?"  
"Someone in the village. We've fallen so far, it's applicable." Ema turned reflective. "What discoveries have gone unfound? What data uncollected, all thanks to the collapse of our little empire?"  
"Hey." Skorri put an arm on her friend's shoulder. "Quit looking behind you."  
"Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it."  
"Those who dwell too long on the past have no place in the future. Eyes up." Skorri's expression softened, becoming almost teasing. "And don't burn the food."  
Ema looked back to the cookfire, and cursed. Skorri laughed.

A mere hour after both friends had gone to bed, they both woke to the sound of gunfire. One of them knew what that meant.  
Ema's door was kicked down and she only just managed to shoot the attacker before she died. Rolling off her bed, she clutched her Minuet-12 tighter and looked into the living room. Two bodies were lying next to the cook fire, but neither of them were Skorri.  
A brief glance around revealed Skorri grappling with a much larger man near the entrance. Ema raised her gun and sent two rounds into the attacker's backside. They cried out in pain and crumpled to the floor.  
Skorri nodded her thanks and grabbed her rifle from her back, returning the sidearm to the back of her waist. "More are outside. You want to just turtle in here, or…"  
"I want to protect this town," Ema began, but Skorri cut her off.  
"Of course you do. But you won't be able to if you go charging out the front door. You'll be dead and captured in seconds. We need a plan."  
"Kill them all. That's the plan!" Ema responded, kicking open the door. Rounds instantly tore her apart, and she collapsed in a bloody heap. Pepperidge brought her back quickly.  
"We probably shouldn't try that again," the Ghost said. Ema nodded.  
"Fine," Ema growled. "How are we going to do this?"  
"Tonik, can you identify any weaknesses in this building's structure?"  
Tonik, Skorri's Ghost, bobbed and nodded. "I've marked them for you."  
Skorri put her rifle to the wood and pulled the trigger five times, blasting a small rent in the structure.  
"Well? C'mon! We're gonna need cover."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the beginning of the events that motivate Ema to this day.  
> I wonder why they might motivate someone with PTSD....  
> You'll know soon enough.


	3. A Second Awakening.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowfall can't smother flames this time.

The problem with wooden houses was how flammable they were.  
After three casualties, the attackers got smart. Firebombs, or maybe Solar Light, rained in and forced both Guardians to evacuate the now-smoldering structure.  
They were now standing in Skorri's Well of Radiance in between the town hall and the tavern, firing at anything that moved.  
"I'm out of ammo!" Ema called, cracking off two final rounds from her Minuet-12.  
Skorri cursed. "See if you can grab some. I'll hold down the fort here."  
Ema nodded, dashing into cover next to one burnt wall of the town hall. Her footsteps barely registered, and as she peeked around the corner she saw two raiders. Her hands crackled with energy.  
Two feet away from the two, she jumped into the air and landed a solid strike to the back of the neck. One collapsed, tendrils of Void jumping across the air to the next opponent. They brought their gun to bear on Ema, but she forced the barrel down and smashed a palmheel into their nose. Blood began to flow from the wound as she followed the strike with a hook punch to their jawline. Their eyes rolled back up into their head as the punch hit, nerves flaring and snuffing them out like a candle. They dropped like a sack of dirt.  
Ema grabbed the gun they dropped and checked the magazine, only to feel a searing pain followed by the solid impact of something heavy against her back. She fell down and was knocked out.  
She awoke with her hands bound behind her back, in the town square. A tall- no, not just tall, but big- man stood in front of her, with enough armor to make them a walking fortress. The fires of burning houses cast flickering shadows all over his ramparts.  
"Iron Lord." The words dripped with sadism. "All alone. No allies. Your little Wolf is dead, and your civilians are all captured."  
"I will know the name of the person who has me in their sights," Ema said. Her voice was stiffly official.  
"Lord Citan. Bane of the Iron Lords," the fortress responded. "Normally, you would already be dead. But, I will give you a choice, Iron Lord."  
Ema raised an eyebrow.  
"You can either save yourself and condemn these civilians to death, or save the civilians and kill yourself."  
"What the hell type of choice is that?!" Ema sputtered. "You can't possibly- I- we're Guardians! We're meant to save people, not kill them!"  
"Choose."  
Ema shook her head. "Prove you can kill them, then. I don't see them anywhere here!"  
Citan might've laughed. "Is that your choice?"  
"You know what? It is!"  
Citan waved one hand. There was a series of gunshots that echoed in the now-dead valley. She was hauled to her feet seconds later and pushed forwards, past the town hall.  
Bodies were scattered around the backyard of the town hall. At a look, Ema could identify Minda and Wavie, facedown in the red-tinged dirt.  
The rope binding her hands was cut and she collapsed to her knees. For the first time, her Ghost was speechless. Magn was dead in front of her, eyes cloudy and sightless, blood staining the mud red. Citan's words passed over her, unheeded and unheard.  
There was a thundering crack of a sniper rifle, and Citan fell over, then a solid hand wrapped around Ema's arm and she was hauled to her feet.  
"Get up! We're leaving!" Skorri shouted, firing a hand cannon. "Efrideet, get the engines running! We're gonna have company!"  
Ema shook off Skorri's hand and readied her rifle, acting on autopilot. One step backwards, then another, then another.  
"Skorri, I'll keep them off us! Grab my shoulder and lead!" she said, words punctuated by gunfire. Two rounds went into a building where one raider had just ducked. Three targets moved through the opening between two houses. One caught rounds and collapsed, two more rounds going into their skull to confirm the kill. Skorri's hand clamped onto her shoulder and she started guiding her backwards.  
Two more targets attempted to suppress the two Lords. Three rounds killed one, blasting a triangular rent into their chest. The other had the wisdom to take cover as two more rounds soared over their head.  
They reached the edge of the village as targets continued to pursue, diving into the brush. Rounds came out from behind a tree. Ema threw a grenade behind the tree in response, sending down a miniature lightning storm.  
More shots, now from just inside the brush. Ema held her fire, searching for the source.  
Rustling, moving bushes. Proper vector. Sight, acquire, fire, just like the Cosmodrome. The shooter stood stock-straight for a moment, then fell back down.  
In and out. Keep breathing, stay frosty. Any remaining targets? None visible. Hold your fire. Go down the checklist. Targets? No. Hold fire. Targets? No. Hold fire. Targets? No. Hold-  
"Sunbreaker!" Skorri shouted. Ema whirled around, seeing a Titan holding a burning hammer. Two rounds glanced off his armor.  
"Ema, keep going!" Skorri shouted. There was the shring! of a sword being drawn, and Ema looked to see a burning angel of death where Skorri had been standing. An axe was held in both hands, and a radiant fire covered her body.  
The Sunbreaker threw a hammer. It was knocked aside by the axe. Another two missed or were blocked as Skorri charged, the axe spitting flames as she leapt and slammed the axe downwards. The Sunbreaker slammed their hammer into Skorri's side, but she ignored the blow and delivered a devastating side cut, blocking another hammer with the shaft of the axe, before finishing her opponent with one shattering cut to the neck that sent their head rolling.  
"Keep going!" Skorri shouted, placing the axe across her back. "Keep moving! Ship is just up ahead!"  
The two continued retreating. No one bothered them as they went up the ramp.  
There was a shuddering as the ship lifted off. Ema fell to her knees, gun in front of her.  
"Ema?" the Iron Lord asked. She didn't respond for a solid minute.  
"I could've stopped them," Ema whispered.  
"Citan would've killed them anyways." Whether or not Ema heard her was doubtful.  
All Skorri could do was place an arm around her friend's shoulders.  
"Ema, are you still going to stay here?" she asked. Ema shook her head.  
"I could've stopped him."  
Skorri took a deep breath. "Ema, shut the hell up. I was watching you. The only thing that you could've done was die, and then Citan would've killed the village anyway! So shut the hell up!"  
By the end of her rant, she was shouting. Ema stood up. "I could've stayed with you! That way, I wouldn't have been captured!"  
"He would've killed the village if you weren't! There is no way that Cabine survives!"  
Ema's mouth opened to respond, then closed. Skorri's expression softened. "All we can do now is avenge them, okay? So let's get to avenging."  
Ema didn't respond for a few seconds. Skorri stood up and moved to the door of the airlock. "I'm going to make some food and get us on-course. Join me when you're ready."  
Pepperidge materialized next to Ema as Skorri exited.  
"She's right, you know," the little drone said, glum. "We couldn't have done anything."  
"All they did was offer hospitality, and they died for it," Ema responded. Her voice was weak.  
"That's what the Iron Lords are meant to do, right? To make sure that those things don't go unpunished?"  
"I hope."  
"I do too."  
After a while, Ema stood up and found a bunk, only to collapse. She tried to sleep and no sleep came.


End file.
